


Some Girls

by NeverComingHome



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverComingHome/pseuds/NeverComingHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If they could stop wanting it, they would stop doing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: Incest, roleplaying

They pretend they don’t know each other and it helps a little. Abigail taps her finger against her glass and when she glances to the right there’s Jenny with her back against the bar and a smile on her face.

“Get you a drink?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hey, no argument there.”

Abigail closes her eyes and sighs, a disbelieving smile on her face when she looks at her sister’s satisfied grin. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s what my shrinks tell me.”

Abigail stares at her a moment longer. “What’s your name?”

“Jennifer.”

“If I let you get me a drink, Jennifer, will you respect me in the morning?”

“Sure, if you stick around that long.”

They whisper, drunkenly, to each other in the backseat of a taxi with Abigail’s hand between Jenny’s legs and Jenny’s breath hot on Abigail’s ear. They exchange stories from the time they weren't together and all the stories involve car chases and blood the way other people’s stories involve weather and gossip. The driver grips the wheel tightly and pretends to be interested in the music playing from the radio.

~*~  
They always pause in front of the bed, no matter how drunk, sober, or hungry for it they are. 

No. 

Abigail always pauses in front of the bed no matter how drunk, sober, or hungry. She stares at it like it’s another demon waiting to catch her until Jenny pushes her or finds her mouth in the dark. Abigail apologizes for her initial reluctance by being the first to do everything else. It’s always her naked on her back while Jenny snakes off her belt or flicks her shirt to the corner of the room in contrast to Abigail’s neat pile of pants, shirt, shoes, watch, gun. 

They keep up the pretenses until the bed is creaking and their skin is warm and slick, pulses racing in sync and thoughts filled only with each other when they meet the other’s eye.

“Are you-?” 

“Yeah, are you?”

“Wait.”

Abigail reaches a hand between them to rub and press until Jenny takes the silent command and swats her hand away to do it herself, not having the breath to say ‘let me do that’.Before they can say ‘kiss me’ the other is leaning in to do just that and the words die on their touched lips in a perfect moment sullied only by the routine that follows. 

Jenny blinks at Abigail’s quickly retreating form.

“Where are you going?”

She sniffs, her toes only just touching the floor. “My roommate worries about me when I don't come home.”

“They sound a little codependent.”

“Yeah, well, he’s new to the area. Culture shock. It’s a long story.”

“Want to get something to drink later and tell me all about it?”

“Maybe.” Abigail stands up and starts dressing, her movements quick, rehearsed, and tight. Jenny rolls onto her stomach, but stares at the pillow.

“So, like, what’s your name? You never said.”

“….Lauren.”

Maybe it means something that Jenny is always herself and Abigail is always somebody else, but in the long run it doesn't matter, they both know how their stories tend to end.

~*~  
Abigail greased the hinges on her door and takes off her shoes before opening it, but Ichabod is still there to greet her when she tries to sneak into her own room.

“I assume you managed to sufficiently ‘blow off steam’?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And do you ever intend on divulging the name of whoever it is that calls you before and after you arrive home after these late night tête-à-têtes?”

“Is this your way of telling me to put my phone on silent?”

“Abigail-“

“It’s just a hook up, Crane,” she takes out her phone as it buzzes in her pocket and presses 'ignore'. “I barely know them.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains: demon hunting/fighting

As a rule, Abigail justifies her actions to keep from regretting her mistakes and Jenny distrusts anyone who has ever let her down, even if the reasons are justified, because they grew up with the same mentor who taught them to live by different codes. 

They’re hunting a demon that has never been seen because it turns the inner thoughts of comatose patients into reality and feeds off the most neurotic and harmful. They trace its origins to a campground outside of New York that is locally known as “the forest that never sleeps” because it induces a rabid case of insomnia. Every bit of research points to the phenomena being a side effect of the demon’s usually constant presence. With its antics in Sleepy Hollow the forest has mostly reverted back to its natural cycle making it the perfect place to wait out the demon’s return. Ichabod constructs noise makers out of tin cans while Abigail reads and Jenny drinks coffee.

“What if this thing doesn’t show up?”

“It will, there’s always a week gap between the events and all signs point to it gathering its strength here.”

“Good point, good point. But what if it doesn’t show up?”

Abigail reaches into her knapsack, pulls out another demonology book and tosses it over the fire. “We can start planning for the next disaster.”

Jenny grunts as she catches the text. “This thing weighs more than you.” Abigail raises an eyebrow at her and returns to reading. “Let’s do something else.”

Ichabod shouts something blasphemous behind them, but when they turn around he waves them off with one hand while sucking the blood from the finger of his other.

“I’m not really in the mood for ‘I Spy’ if that’s what you’re talking about.”

Jenny sits down next to Abigail so their shoulders are touching. “I spy something brown and quivering and hot all over.”

“Crane is right there.”

Jenny laughs, “I was talking about the fire, perv.”

Abigail snorts and stands up to retrieve the other book. “No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was.”

“No. You. Weren’t.”

“Yes,” Jenny mimics with the same enunciation, pushing herself onto her feet, “I. was.”

“No, you weren’t, Jenny.”

“Mills?” Ichabod interjects softly.

“Yes, I was.”

“Ms. Mills.”

“Why do you always have to-?”

“Mills sisters!”

“What?” They chorus which is when they see their bodies still arm against arm, heads slumped downward in sleep while a tree like creature with red claws and an even redder mouth draws glowing circles above them. They dive back into their bodies, but not before the demon manages to extract a blue line of energy from their forehead. Ichabod shouts in momentary triumph as they awaken before him, the triumph momentary because of the form their thoughts have taken. 

Jenny is surrounded by men, women and children; talking corpses who surround her and beg to be saved. She tells them she has no idea who they are and they open their mouths and scream so loudly it brings tears to her eyes and blood to her ears. She tries to shout above the din that she’s sorry until one by one they all stop and whisper “save me, save me, save me” until she can’t stand it and crawls under their linked arms to get away. 

Abigail clashes her sword against a never ending wave of soldiers who shout “traitor” as they signal their men to reload their weapons in the trenches beyond. Abigail shouts for help only to find that her comrades are toying with their phones and staring disinterestedly at the chaos around her. She sets one of the books on fire and tosses it at the waves of enemies who dissipate when she charges them, sending her rolling down a hill.

Ichabod is there to help her up, circles around his eyes as he holds up an ax with shaking hands. 

“We appear to have been struck by the manifestation of each other’s worst thoughts. I managed to get to the ax, but we have to combine our realities into one, tempt the creature into a mass feeding frenzy rather than sampling the tastiest as it were and turn our thoughts against it.”

“I have soldiers, soldiers who are trying to kill me and soldiers who don’t care.”

Jenny nods, “I think I have you. People you didn’t get to in time, they-they screamed really loudly.”

“I saw strangers dragged away from me by a shadowy figure. I remember Abigail being one of the victims, but I’m afraid I can’t place the rest.”

Abigail can see the pieces coming together in her head and in the end a shadowy beast armed with weapons and flashing lights surrounds the demon and screams at it while the three of them exchange the ax to strike blows until finally they chop off the branch holding its life source.

Afterward they stand around the ashen earth it died upon, paralyzed by the events. Abigail stares at Ichabod, unsure of what to say. 

“You know sometimes we all-“

“I move that we never speak of this night henceforth.”

“Seconded,” Jenny responds almost immediately and is the first to start walking back to the car.

~*~  
They should probably talk about it. They should talk about Abigail always feeling wracked with guilt over the people she couldn't save and that the face that had screamed at Jenny the loudest had been her own. They should talk about Jenny waiting for the people in her life to disappear and they should maybe even talk about Ichabod feeling like a stranger in his own home.

~*~  
“Wait,” Abigail giggles, pulling a heart shaped pillow from underneath her back and setting it aside for Jenny to knock carelessly off the bed. “Hate that thing.”

Jenny kisses the other’s inner thigh. “I’ll buy you another.”

“It’s okay, my sister gave it to me.”

“She must love you a lot.”

“Yeah.” Abigail curls her fingers into Jenny’s hair. “I’d never let her go.”

It’s enough because it has to be and maybe some day when the horsemen are lined up like dominoes they’ll duck behind a burning building and talk about morality and happy endings, but for now they’ve got this. They've got each other.

~*~

“You never told me your name.”

Abigail tucks her shoelaces in and places one knee on the bed to kiss her.

“Abbie. Abbie Mills.”


End file.
